


Unfulfilled

by wickedthoughts



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dean Apologizes, Death Wish, M/M, Mark of Cain, Mild Blood, No Sex, Post-Episode: s10e09 The Things We Left Behind, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Unrequited Castiel/Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 09:24:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2768036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedthoughts/pseuds/wickedthoughts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which nothing ever changes, and Dean tries to make Cas keep the promise he made in the restaurant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unfulfilled

**Author's Note:**

> For an [spnkink-meme prompt](http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/90403.html?thread=35810083#t35810083)
> 
> Spoilers for 10x09

* * *

Dean had a few beers with Sam the night before he had Cas fulfill the promise he’d made. He made sure that Sam drank more than him; Sam always slept heavier when he was drunk. They sat in Sam’s room and watched some late night comedy show that Dean couldn’t remember the details of, laughing and talking and trying to forget what Dean had done to those men under the Mark of Cain’s influence a few days prior. When Sam fell asleep around two, Dean left. He had no plans to sleep. He committed his last look at Sam to memory. His little brother was fully clothed, sprawled face-down on his bed, long legs akimbo and face turned to the side on his pillow. _Goodbye, Sam,_ he thought as he shut the door quietly behind him.

It was a good last night on Earth, in Dean’s opinion. More than he deserved. He felt bad for Sam, what his brother would wake up to. He felt bad for Cas, too, having to tell Sam. He knew Cas would take care of Sam in his absence, though, and he was grateful. He went to his room, prowled around it, picking up items that had once meant so much to him, setting them back down. He felt nothing for them now, and he knew that this was the right decision.

It was a little after four in the morning when Dean went to find Cas sitting in the Bunker’s war room. The angel was taciturn as ever, but agitation leaked through the cracks of his normally stoic exterior. Dean felt even worse. He knew how badly this would tear Cas up, but Cas would do it. And once it was over, he’d never be inconvenienced by Dean’s needs again.

“Ready, Cas?”

Cas looked up at him with hollow sadness and didn’t answer. He stood, grunting brusquely. They made their way silently to the garage. They’d agreed earlier that it would be best to drive out to a secluded location to do this. Somewhere Sam wouldn’t be able to find and stop them.

“Hey, Cas? Why don’t you drive?”

Cas looked at him in wide-eyed surprise for a moment. Then his eyes narrowed, mouth opening slightly as if to question Dean.

“I mean, you’re gonna have to drive her back, right? I gotta make sure you can handle my baby okay. You and Sam’ll take care of her for me, won’t you?”

“Of- of course, Dean,” Cas’ voice cracked sorrowfully. Dean didn’t think he could handle it if Cas started crying or something like that. He smiled at the angel.

“Awesome. Thanks.”

Cas sat behind the wheel of the Impala, staring at it as if it were something precious that he was afraid to touch. Dean slid into the passenger seat and tossed him the keys. Cas’ hands trembled slightly as he started the car.

Dean was surreally calm about the whole situation as they pulled out onto the dark street, reminding Cas to turn on the headlights. This was good. This was right. It would finally be over soon and he’d never hurt anybody again. He switched on the radio.

“Hey Cas, you’re drivin’ so you get to pick the tunes. That’s the rule in here. Don’t let Sam try and tell you otherwise, ‘cause he’ll try and make you listen to some of his crap, just you wait.”

“Whatever you want to listen to is fine, Dean,” Cas said stiffly, eyes on the road. Dean flipped through stations until he heard the opening strains of Metallica’s “For Whom the Bell Tolls”.

“Oh, awesome, I love this song.”

Dean manically drummed the air in front of him along with the music, looking at Cas with a quirk of his lips to see the angel’s reaction. Cas still wasn’t looking at him. Dean suddenly needed Cas to look at him.

“You heard this one, Cas?”

“I’m familiar with it,” Cas’ knuckles turned white as he clutched at the steering wheel and he didn’t turn his head.

“That pop culture upgrade Metatron gave you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that guy was a douchewad, but he did one good thing, I guess. Huh?”

“Can we talk about something else, please?” Cas growled at the windshield.

“Yeah, right, sorry. My bad.”

Dean stared out the passenger window at the blurred silhouettes of telephone poles and trees, occasionally a lone building or two, as they whizzed by on their way out of Lebanon. The song ended and there were ads for beef jerky and deodorant before Styx’s “Man in the Wilderness” started playing. Dean zoned out for a while, his fatigue, the scenery, and the melancholy rock lulling him into a contented stupor. Everything was coming together perfectly. Cas would end him and help Sam get through it. Dean wasn’t needed at all anymore. It was so freeing, and he felt wonderfully relaxed.

He was so relaxed he didn’t even realize that the sun had risen and the radio had turned to static until the buzz of his cell phone jolted him back to reality. He pulled it from his pocket, noted that it was almost seven, and saw the message alerting him that he’d missed a call from Sam.

“Dude, we’ve been driving for over two hours! Why didn’t you say something?”

“I- ” Cas faltered, glancing at him briefly out of the corner of his eye. “I didn’t want to disturb you. You looked- happy.”

“Uh, okay, thanks I guess. But I wanted to get this over with before Sam woke up. I think we’re far enough away now, you can stop.”

“But- ” Cas was clearly trying to come up with a counter-argument but couldn’t. He visibly deflated. “Yes, alright.”

The stretch of highway they were on was surrounded by fields of golden grass on either side. Dean saw a barn in one of them that had clearly not been in use for some time. He pointed it out to Cas.

“That looks like a good spot.”

Cas wordlessly guided the Impala off the road and parked it by the fence bordering the field. Automatically, he tried to hand the keys back to Dean once he’d pulled them from the ignition.

“Cas, those are yours now, remember?”

Cas snatched his hand back as if Dean’s words had scalded him. He exited the car, slamming the door shut with more force than was strictly necessary.

“Hey! Watch it! You gotta treat her gently,” Dean demonstrated how to properly close the door. Cas glowered at him.

“It’s a _car,_ Dean.”

“Well, with an attitude like that, maybe I _should_ take those keys back,” Dean joked, laughing. Cas didn’t laugh back. He strode toward the barbed wire fence that stood between them and their destination, a determined look on his face. A large section of the fence blew apart, wood and metal flying away. Dean smiled at Cas and his melodramatic gesture, but Cas was refusing to look at him again. They walked together through the sizeable gap into the field.

It took them about five minutes of silence to reach the dilapidated barn. Cracked red paint rained down around them as Dean pushed the doors open with a creak of tired wood. It was musty and dim inside.

“Here’s as good a place as any, I guess,” Dean shrugged as he peered into the gloom. Then a memory struck him. “Hey, we met in a barn, didn’t we?”

“Actually, we met in Hell,” Cas said gruffly as he strode to the center of the barn.

“Yeah, sure, if you want to get technical. But I don’t remember that.”

Cas turned to look at him. His face was shockingly weary, lined with grief.

“I do. I’ll never forget it.”

Dean fidgeted uncomfortably under Cas’ unblinking scrutiny. The angel gazed at him like he was soaking up every detail. Much like Dean had looked at Sam’s sleeping form for the last time all those hours ago.

“Okay, uh, so- ” Dean fumbled for the demon-killing knife at his belt. Not that he really thought he was a demon again, but he’d grabbed it just in case. He walked forward to stand in front of Cas, offering the knife to him.

“I didn’t know if you had enough juice or whatever to smite me, so I brought this, too. Uh, how do you wanna do this?”

“I _don’t,_ Dean,” Cas’ voice broke. “I _don’t_ want to do this.”

He didn’t take the knife and Dean felt awkward standing there with his hand outstretched. The first tendrils of fear curled their way around his heart.

“Okay, I understand that you don’t want to. I appreciate that. But you _promised,_ Cas, so- ”

“No, you don’t understand!” Cas practically screamed at him. “I _can’t,_ Dean! I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. You’re a- you’re a fuckin’ angel. You kill monsters, it’s your job. Mine, too. I’m a monster now, you saw what I did to those guys, even if they had it comin’. So let’s- let’s just do our jobs.”

Panic was rising in Dean’s chest. Cas had to kill him, he had to. Sam wouldn’t, Dean wasn’t strong enough to end it himself, it had to be Cas. If Cas didn’t- Dean didn’t want to think about what would happen. He was suddenly angry with Cas.

“You promised, Cas. You fucking promised me.”

“I know,” Cas was crying, full on sobbing, and Dean was supremely uncomfortable. He’d never seen Cas cry before. It was strange, wrong. “I know I promised you, and I’m sorry. But I can’t.”

“No,” Dean was mulishly insistent. He thrust the knife handle-first at Cas. “You can, I know you can. And. You. Promised.”

“I can’t be alone anymore, Dean. I lost Hannah, and Claire understandably didn’t want to stick around either. I can’t lose you and Sam, too.”

His tears had slowed, and he turned shining, pleading eyes up to Dean. He didn’t take the knife and Dean finally lowered it to his side, fingers curled around the blade so it bit into his flesh.

“But you’ll still have Sam,” Dean insisted, trying to quell the nagging realization of just how selfish his request to Cas had been. “You won’t be alone.”

Cas laughed bitterly.

“You’re not stupid, Dean. Stop pretending like you are. You think Sam will want anything to do with me once he finds out I killed you?”

“But- ” Dean’s arguments that of course Sam would be reasonable and forgiving about the situation died on his tongue as he understood that Cas was right. Because, yes, Sam was very reasonable and forgiving. Except when it came to Dean being hurt.

Fear surged through him. He had to die, he couldn’t be allowed to live, to kill, to descend back into demonhood. But if he died, if Cas killed him here, then Cas and Sam would be alone. Cas might hurt himself, and Sam- who would stop Sam from doing something Dean-level stupid to bring his big brother back? Shit, he was stuck. He didn’t know what to do. His fist tightened around the knife and he felt blood trickle through his fingers.

“Fuck!” Dean swore loudly and Cas twitched. “Why- why is it always my job to take care of everybody else? I can’t. I can’t anymore. You’re gonna have to find someone else to do it.”

“Dean, you don’t have to- that’s not what I meant- it’s not your responsibility- ”

“Then why does it feel like it, huh? Why do I gotta hold everything together? I barely could before, and now I’m a fucking monster. I’m the thing you’re supposed to hunt, so, you know, _hunt_ me. Kill me, Cas. Please, kill me.”

Cas drew a shaking breath and straightened his shoulders.

“No. I’m sorry, Dean. I won’t.”

Man and angel stared at each other. They were both stubborn sons of bitches, Dean reflected. It was an impasse they wouldn’t overcome. A battle of wills with no winner. Dean dropped the knife and fell to his knees on the barn floor, burying his head in his hands. He was smearing blood all over his face, but he didn’t care. He groaned in frustration.

“Damn it, Cas. Why? Why the hell not?”

He heard Cas sink to the ground, trench coat rustling in the stale straw.

“You know why. I told you. I can’t lose you, or Sam. I need you. I love you.”

Dean’s head snapped up and he glared at Cas through bloody fingers. The angel was sitting cross-legged in front of him.

“Cas,” he said warningly. “We’ve talked about that.”

He knew Cas loved him, had heard the angel confess it both in word and deed countless times. He’d never let Cas elaborate on the statement, on what exactly he meant by the l-word. Because it could mean a lot of different things, right? Friends said they loved each other all the time, no big deal, even if it was more of a chick thing. Cas could hardly be expected to understand that, being an angel and all-

But he knew. He knew deep down what Cas meant, and it made him feel all the more guilty for asking the angel to kill him. And there was more baggage associated with Cas’ declaration than he cared to unpack. Now or ever.

“Have we, Dean? Does you getting defensive and angry and changing the subject really constitute talking about it?”

Oh Christ, they were really going to do this here and now weren’t they? He almost missed the old Cas. The self-righteous angel who avoided things that made him uncomfortable and probably would have smote a Marked Dean as soon as look at him.

“Alright, fine, you- you love me, whatever. That’s cool. I, uh, I love you, too, buddy.”

“No, Dean. I _love_ you,” Cas wasn’t going to let him deflect this time, the bastard. “Phileo, storge, eros, agape. All of it.”

“I have no idea what you’re saying to me, Cas,” Dean asserted, although he had a pretty good idea.

“It’s Greek,” Cas was resolute. “Phileo is the love between friends, storge is the love between family members, eros is the love between romant- ”

“I get it, I get it,” Dean hastily cut him off. His face burned.

“Good. Just so we’re clear.”

“Oh, yeah, we’re- we’re crystal clear.”

“I never expected you to reciprocate,” Cas plowed on, refusing to look away from Dean’s eyes. Dean found that he couldn’t look away either. “I just want to make sure you understand what I mean.”

Dean had a brief moment of utter self-awareness, staggering him with its profundity. He realized that in another life- a life where he wasn’t weighted by trauma and forced machismo, where he was allowed to truly choose for himself- he might have been able to reciprocate Cas’ feelings. In the space of a heartbeat he mourned for that alternate life and what it might have brought him. Then it was over and he was looking away from Cas, embarrassed, the wind taken completely out of his sails.

“Cas, I- you’re like a brother to me. You’re family, and you’re my friend, and those ain’t words I use lightly. You know that, right?”

He chanced another glance at the angel.

“Yeah,” Cas smiled at him warmly. “I know.”

“Um, so- so what I’m gettin’ here is that you’re not gonna kill me?”

“That’s correct.”

Cas’ smile became sad. Dean huffed out a breath and scratched at the back of his neck, trying to clear the tension.

“What do we do now?”

“We find a way to save you. There has to be a way. And even if I can’t find it, do you really think Sam won’t come through?”

“No,” Dean conceded, but he was lying. “He’s a stubborn bastard. Smart, too. He totally puts us to shame.”

He felt awful, not believing in Sam like that, but it had nothing to do with Sam, or Cas, and everything to do with the darkness inside himself. It was stronger than anything. Than any kind of love.

“He does,” Cas laughed quietly.

The angel stood, reaching a hand down to help Dean to his feet and pulling the man into a tight hug. Dean let him, hugged him back, didn’t even pat him on the back in his typical manly show. The performance felt unnecessary here. He felt a rush of healing flow through him, mending his hand and cleaning the blood from his face. He pulled away, smiling in gratitude.

“C’mon, Cas. Let’s go home.”

Cas handed him the Impala’s keys and led the way out of the barn.

*

Sam didn’t ask or comment about where Dean and Cas had gone that morning, but Dean could tell he’d put some of the pieces together from the way his brother was pacing agitatedly in the war room. He hugged Dean fiercely and didn’t let go until long past the point of comfort. Dean didn’t say a word.

“I made you guys breakfast,” Sam said when he’d finally released Dean. “Bacon, sausage, eggs, hash browns. It’s cold now, but I can heat it back up.”

Sam had to have known, or had hoped he’d known, that Cas couldn’t go through with it. Yeah, smart, stubborn bastard. Dean was proud of him.

“Thanks, Sam.”

“I’ll reheat it,” Cas said helpfully, flexing his hands and moving towards the kitchen to give the brothers some privacy.

“Thanks, Cas,” Sam called after him, multiple layers of meaning apparent in his gratitude.

“Hey, Sam,” Dean said when they were alone. “It- it occurred to me that I never said I was sorry for what I did to you last year. With Gadreel. And I- I’m sorry.”

Sam squinted at him suspiciously. Dean realized his brother thought that Dean was trying to make things right before he tried to end himself again. That his apology was less than genuine. It hurt, even if it was no less than he deserved. Dean _was_ sorry, though. He understood now what Sam had felt as he welcomed death. How trapped he’d been, but how right the end had seemed. And Dean had ripped that peace away from him, helped an angel violate his mind and body. Dean was so fucking sorry it made his heart ache. He hoped Sam would come to believe him.

“Yeah, okay,” Sam waved the apology away. “Thanks.”

Sam was half right, though. Dean was sincere, but he was also trying to set the record straight before he figured out a plan B to neutralize the threat he posed. Cas wouldn’t kill him, he’d been foolish to think the angel would- or could- any more than Sam would. But there was more than one way to skin a cat. Hell, maybe he’d finally man up enough to do it himself. It didn’t seem as abhorrent to him now, the idea of sticking a gun in his mouth, knowing it was the only option-

“Dean,” Sam’s voice broke him out of his reverie. He’d dropped all pretense. “Don’t- please don’t do anything stupid. We’ll figure this out. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Dean lied for his little brother’s sake. “I know, Sammy. We will.”

Thankfully Cas chose that moment to re-enter the war room, three plates of steaming breakfast food balanced in his arms. They moved into the library and sat at the long table. Dean wolfed down his food, pretending everything was okay, while the other two picked at theirs. He just had to keep it together a little longer. Just a little longer. He could do it, for Sam and Cas. To make sure they’d be taken care of, when he was gone. When he’d killed the monster.

He could do this.


End file.
